


blank maps

by kuruk



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/F, Not Rebellion Story Compliant, POV Alternating, Post-Series, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 01:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2450225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuruk/pseuds/kuruk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The miasma faded. I hefted my spear behind my neck and along my shoulders, stifled the instinctive urge to scoop up the cubes off the pavement right then. Waited you out. </p><p>But when you finally touched down on the street and walked your way over to me, with that flowery scent getting stronger the closer you got, there was a second I thought you’d be someone else. Would’ve said so, if I hadn’t realized how stupid it'd have sounded. I've never met another girl who's got magic with that kind of scent.</p><p>“Huh,” was what I said instead. “Well, look at you. And here I thought you’d gone and disappeared on us.”</p><p>“Evidently not,” you said, all toneless. You stopped at the mouth of the alley and stood there. Staring. Not at me, just in my general direction, and with that stained-glass expression on your face again to boot.</p><p>[Nearly everything about Akemi irritates her, and there's a lot that doesn't make any sense, yet Kyoko finds herself trying to get a handle on it all anyway, despite herself.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	blank maps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyrophane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrophane/gifts).



> You can probably imagine my surprise when I received my assignment and discovered I would be writing for you! Writing for a great mutual follower was wonderful on its own, and the subject matter made it all the more enjoyable! So thank you very much for participating in the exchange and giving me the chance to write this piece for you!
> 
> As you are no doubt aware, we share a deep and abiding appreciation for _Madoka Magica_ 's Most Real and Powerful Dark Horse Dynamic...so I was excited for the excuse to revisit a facet of canon unmarred by any Rebellion-related misgivings. After rereading _[The Different Story](http://www.mangahere.co/manga/mahou_shoujo_madoka_magica_the_different_story/c001/)_ , getting talked through several hair-tearing episodes about perspective and voice, and checking out short stories by Sofia Samatar and Jhumpa Lahiri for a sense of how to pull it all off...here you have it. I had a lot of fun during the writing process, and can only hope reading it is as enjoyable!
> 
> As always, this fic owes its existence to the usual suspects: transversely, who reassured me and talked me through those aforementioned hair-tearing episodes by recommending I read Samatar's "[Selkie Stories Are for Losers](http://www.strangehorizons.com/2013/20130107/selkie-f.shtml)" (which I can't recommend highly enough!) for a Kyoko perspective/voice cheat sheet, and khepria, my partner in commiserative moral support during madcap writing sessions.
> 
> Happy reading!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’d heard of you some before, but the first time I really remember seeing you with my own two eyes was on that night at the metro station. Not like I learned anything about you then, though. You were behind us the whole fight, on account of your magic being the ranged kind. If anything, that’s all I remember about you then: a purple flash of light here, another over there, the high whistling notes of your magic charging up. The impression’s pretty hazy. I wasn’t paying attention. Pretty sure none of us had any to spare for each other anyway, what with all those wraiths, and Sayaka’s big stupid hero routine, and what happened after. Apart from your weird muttering and those red streamers you cried over, that’s all that stuck.

Just about everything else I learned secondhand. Mami-san told me about both you and Sayaka, to make conversation after she found me in that park about a month ago. That, or to warn me off. Probably both. She’s always been one to say things all nice and proper and smile politely to your face over tea and cake while she’s telling you off, setting boundaries, and making sure you know just what’ll happen if you cross them. People who act like that instead of telling you what they mean to say straight-out tend to piss me off, but I can’t blame Mami-san for it. It serves me right 'cause of our history. Besides, I know she’s the kind of girl who doesn’t like burning bridges with the direct approach, even though I was sure I’d already torched the one bridge between us.

Anyway, I got the basic rundown once we got off a weapons-ready basis. She insisted we take it inside to the nearest cafe. Her treat. I'm not one to turn down an offer like that, so I let her drag me there.

Miki-san is a schoolmate of mine who made a contract recently, she said. Miki-san uses swords and healing magic, she said. 

I snorted. That rookie sounds like deadweight, I said. 

She got all still and gave me that look of hers. Don’t know if you’ve been around her long enough to know it yet. The one that’s disappointed and reproving and hardass and a little hurt all at once? Yeah. That one. It surprised the hell out of me: that I expected it then; that it looked the same after such a long time. Even more surprised that I couldn’t hold it without looking away. That I still can’t.

Mami-san said, Her earnestness and commitment to protecting innocents from the wraiths more than make up for her inexperience. I’m certain she will be an excellent magical girl in time. Please don’t speak ill of her.

Uh-huh, I said. If you say so. 

It sure would’ve been something if she’d been right about Sayaka. By the end, I was dumb enough to start hoping she would be.

Anyway. You came up after. Akemi-san, another schoolmate of hers. Newly transferred from some Catholic school in Tokyo. Don’t remember what she said about your magic, only that it wasn’t as obvious of a time bomb as Sayaka’s was. The waitress finally brought the taiyaki I’d ordered, so I was too busy digging in to listen as closely. From the way she talked about you, it seemed like you were just another rookie. Said nothing about your wish. Mami-san isn’t so impolite that she’d talk about another girl’s wish like that, and I may not be above listening when Kyubey gets to talking about other puella magi, but I wouldn’t ask out of the blue. Not about some random magical girl like you anyway. It wasn’t worth the scolding Mami-san’d give me for being nosey.

There wasn’t much small talk left for her to make after that, and I wasn’t feeling chatty enough to talk about how things were going back in Kazamino, so the only thing left was the obvious.

Why have you returned to Mitakihara, Sakura-san?

I took a big bite outta my taiyaki. Heard the miasma’s been getting real thick around here, I told her around my mouthful. There should be enough wraiths around for me to keep doing my own thing without stepping on your or any of your little kohais’ toes, huh.

She smiled at me. Her lips got awful thin at first, but they got plumper the more she talked. She said, You’re welcome to remain in the city, Sakura-san. In fact, as long as you promise you won’t do anything to provoke my kohai, then you could even—if you like...you could also fight alon—

Got it. You don’t have to worry about me bothering you or anything. 

That’s not what I mea—

I already told you I got it, _senpai_. Just tell those rookies to stay outta my way too and there won’t be a problem.

Don’t get me wrong. I knew what she actually meant. I just didn’t wanna hear it. So I finished my taiyaki, pointedly left a handful of cash on the table, and got out of there before she could start on how I was getting by. No matter how pissed off Mami-san gets, she worries. Real bad habit, if you ask me, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that shit from her either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Things went the way we agreed for a while. I had my turf, you three had yours. Mami-san stayed away. 

In the end it was Sayaka that brought us together again, charging into my half of the city like an idiot, chasing a wraith.

Y'know, I'm still not sure whether I should be grateful to Sayaka for that or not. Thought I’d let her know once I knew for sure. Maybe after seeing how everything turned out. Then I'd do it with no regrets or second thoughts.

Though I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, huh?

 

 

 

 

 

 

— . . . —

 

 

 

 

 

 

You do not remember the very first time you encountered Sakura Kyoko. At least not the particulars. What you do know: it was no more than a dozen loops in; you were still allowing Her to contract over the dead cat at the beginning of each do-over; Tomoe Mami had not yet died; it was perhaps the first or second time Miki Sayaka had made a contract; you were inexperienced with firearms, had not yet begun collecting military-grade weapons, and mostly subsisted on the weapons you stole from yakuza and the pipe bombs you made in your own kitchen; when Miki Sayaka succumbed to her despair, as she always did, Tomoe Mami turned her musket on you and on Sakura Kyoko and had She not saved you for the eleventh time right then you would have died; She cried and told you She couldn’t do it anymore, and though the two of you fought Walpurgisnacht alone and defeated it your soul gems were moments away from splintering into grief seeds, but then she saved you for the thirteenth time and begged you to prevent her from making a contract ever again. It was the first time you killed her.

It was a seminal attempt. Agonizing, unsuccessful. Edifying. 

You discovered that the truth made Tomoe Mami volatile and that you could no longer depend on her. You began to suspect that Miki Sayaka was most at risk of becoming a witch, and every subsequent iteration of hers confirmed it. You promised Her before you pulled the trigger that you would never allow Her to become a magical girl again and so you stopped trying to be Her partner and Her friend. You learned how to pick locks, shoplift, blend in to avoid suspicion, and how to pace your time dilation abilities so that you would not be discovered between turns of your buckler’s internal hourglass. 

These skills would number among your most vital. Among those four, Sakura Kyoko taught you three.

 

 

 

 

 

 

— . . . —

 

 

 

 

 

 

I started helping Mami-san out on her patrols after Sayaka passed. Can’t say it was _smart_ for me to avoid doing that. Not if I was gonna stick around Mitakihara, anyway. The miasma’s thinner in Kazamino than it is here, but I’m not half as nice as Mami-san is about sharing my territory. Getting cubes was easy for me over there, so keeping my soul gem nice and clean was never hard when I was on my own. But thicker miasma means more wraiths. Not enough to beat a girl who knows what’s what, but they’ll sure as hell give her a hard fight.

Back when Sayaka was with her I could get by without playing it all that smart, yeah. But losing her left us with cloudier soul gems than I’d like and Mami-san out on her own, and it got Kyubey yammering at me about energy harvest efficiency or whatever the hell too. Didn’t matter if I wasn’t ‘ready’ yet, I _had to_. Outta my hands. So I got over it and decided to team up with her again. I told her during the tsuya she put together for Sayaka at her place.

There was you too, I guess, but you didn’t even cross my mind. You were late. It wasn’t ’til you got there that I remembered you were still around.

That was the first real look of you I got. It didn’t feel like the first time I’d ever seen you, though. Nah, nothing like that. More like halfway through swallowing a chunk of the eggplant Mami-san cooked I looked at where you were sitting and that glance carved out a place in my head, and from then on the things you did and said stuck longer than a minute.

Right off the bat everything about you was real irritating. Noticed you were looking down at your lap, first off, like whatever you were staring at there was more important than paying attention to the food on your plate, which was getting cold. You had a look just like the one glued to Sayaka’s face the whole time I knew her, the same one I’d seen on more than a few kids I’d chased out of my territory. That shell-shocked look rookies get when the little bit they’ve seen is already too much for ’em, and they’re just about ready to check out. I couldn’t see your soul gem, but I could tell you wouldn’t last long. I was sure of it, and pissed off at you for it too. The last thing any of us needed was another newbie wasting cubes that wouldn’t _do_ anything to change the way your gem’d stay murky and you’d keel over on us soon. Deadweight.

Mami-san must’ve noticed too, ’cause she coughed right then. “Are you alright, Akemi-san?” she said. “You haven’t touched your food.”

You looked up. Gave her this silent, dead-eyed stare. “Yes,” you told her after a minute, and then you finally glanced at your food, picked up your fork and knife, and cut off a tiny piece, dainty as you please. “It’s good,” you said once you’d chewed and swallowed that down. “Thank you.”

“O-oh,” Mami-san said. “I’m glad you like it, Akemi-san.”

You were lying, obviously. Pretty sure just about anyone could tell it was an act, Mami-san and me included. 

Except when I looked at you then I didn’t see some dead-eyed rookie. It was something else. Never thought all that Catholic guilt talk I’d heard growing up was true, but there you were, looking like some kinda teenaged martyr in training. Reminded me of the kind of look the figures have in stained glass windows. Same face whether the Lord’s healing ’em or He’s getting crucified, in every single one. The repetition makes you believe that they're impossible to shake off. That they'll last forever.

I felt something dig around in my chest and turned back to my food. Let the words I’d wanted to yell at you go down with each swallow. Told myself it wasn’t worth trying all over again. I know a lost cause when I see one by now, and I know stained glass is only as strong as any old window. 

Throw a rock hard enough, and it’ll break. Let fire spread on the old wood pews and altar long enough, and some burst of flame or smoke is bound to shatter it. In the end it’s just a question of which rock, or how long before one of the lit prayer candles tips over. 

That’s what I told myself, at any rate. Had to ask Mami-san for seconds of eggplant to keep it all down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You were gone by dawn. Must’ve slipped out sometime after Mami-san and I changed shifts sitting vigil. I could hear Mami-san puttering around the kitchen. She’d cleaned up most of the mess too, so there was no sign you’d been there. You left a bad taste in my mouth, but your absence come morning left an even sourer one. It took two cups of the coffee Mami-san made and three pieces of toast to wash it out.

We ate most of breakfast without saying anything, quiet by the altar with a framed picture of Sayaka that Mami-san hadn’t taken down yet, but I just had to open my big mouth to ask her if she knew what your deal was.

“The same thing troubling us, I suspect,” she answered. “Miki-san’s disappearance was very abrupt. The Law of Cycles always is, when it comes for one of us.”

“Nah, that’s not it. She was crying about someone else that night. Not Sayaka. Besides, did the two of ’em even _like_ each other?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Dunno,” I said. I’d crossed paths with your group’s patrols more than once, but I couldn’t remember how you’d acted, let alone the way you and Sayaka got along. I shrugged at her. “I just got a feeling they didn’t.” 

She set her mug down on the table. “Akemi-san may be a little strange, but she’s a good ally. Miki-san knew that. They worked well together. We were partners, Sakura-san.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what I meant. You were partners, sure, but that doesn’t mean those two were _friends_. That was business. Survival. You can team up with another girl without having any warm feelings for her, you know. Especially when your life’s on the line.”

“I see,” Mami-san said, and it took hearing how cool her voice’d gone for me to notice she wasn’t looking at me anymore. She got up after a minute. I watched her pick up the plates and mugs. Once she got them all, she looked at me again with one of her fake smiles. “You’ve changed a great deal, Sakura-san. Perhaps it would be foolish of me to hope we could get along now.”

I hadn’t meant it like that, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me if I told her so. So I smirked and I shrugged and I said, “Me getting stronger’s got you all disappointed, huh? So...what? This your way of saying you don’t wanna team up with me anymore? Whatever. No skin off my back.”

“Not at all,” said Mami-san. “We can partner together to keep this city safe. You said so yourself. I’ll accept your offer for the city’s and Akemi-san’s sakes.”

“For _their_ sakes,” I said as she walked the dishes to the kitchen. “Right.” 

“So if you would see yourself out,” she called over the tap running, “I would appreciate it. I have to wash these and get ready for school. I’ll meet you later for patrol.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I was gone before she came back out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guess I’m not the only one who’s changed, huh? At least she’s grown a backbone. 

It’d be a lot better for her, if she could say that and mean it and be okay with herself after. If she could just cut out her worries for the two of us and live for her own sake, for once.

Still, it’s probably stupid of me to think that way. Mami-san is Mami-san, and worrying's about as Mami-san a trait as anything could ever be. But I’d get what I wanted, you know.

I could live with that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

— . . . —

 

 

 

 

 

 

She called you ‘rookie.’ 

After surviving nine or eleven months as a puella magi you did not feel like you were but every loop you passed into after that one made it so you saw more and more sense in her pronouncement. That was the last Akemi Homura who needed glasses and wore her hair in thick braids and spent the entire length of those weeks entreating her once-comrades to trust and accept her as one of them, so you suppose she had been right. 

She never called you that again, once you left that Akemi Homura behind.

Though you do not recall how she worded her lessons you are sure that you repeated them to yourself often whenever you attempted to take the things you needed. You are sure that you heard them first in her voice, then in your own, before you could clean out the nearest SDF base of its military-grade weapons thinking only of where you needed to be, which of the witches would hatch next, each and every loop, the positions of the cameras and guard rotations and the way to collect what you needed most efficient ingrained in your muscle memory at last.

(You do remember that you thanked her. You told her you would find a way to repay her. You called her ‘Sakura-senpai.’ You meant it in that unselfconsciously earnest manner you no longer remember how to affect anymore.)

You cast off pieces of yourself with every ruined timeline you failed to change. Individual memories faded or bled into those from different repetitions. You whittled down your priorities until there was only _for Her, for Her, save Her_ left. Those cast-off pieces were unnecessary. You either burned the liabilities out preemptively or left yourself susceptible to them when something invariably went wrong, or you had to destroy their soul gems before they were overwhelmed by their despair, or the Incubator probed for them jovially. Compassion for the others was never easy to ameliorate completely, even when you reminded yourself that She always came first, but it became easier the colder Tomoe Mami became and the more distress Miki Sayaka caused the people around her—the more obstructive and obstinate and suspicious they became of you and your intentions. But of all those things—

(What you recall most clearly was the way she handed you one of the wrapped candies you had watched her take from a convenience store as a demonstration earlier that afternoon. Like everything she did the offer was abrupt, thoroughly unforeseeable. Then she said something like, _Geez_ , or, _Sheesh_ and _Just call me Kyoko, rookie. I don’t like being called ‘Sakura-san.’_ )

—reciprocity was an impulse you could never stifle for long.

 

 

 

 

 

 

— . . . —

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was a kid me and my sister used to read stories before bed. But sometimes just one wasn’t enough, so after it was dark we’d go under the covers so we could read another one without getting caught. I kept a flashlight under my pillow for that. Found it in a dumpster, but it worked. Flickered a little every now and then, but it was good enough, and I was real proud of myself for saving it from getting crushed in some dump and being of no use to anyone anymore. 

Anyway, the only book we had was a kiddie version of the Bible. We must’ve gone through the whole thing more than a hundred times. We had our favorites, though. Hers was the one about Lazarus. 

So Jesus was friends with these three siblings, right? But He didn’t visit them much 'cause He was always traveling around preaching. Then one day the sisters send Him a message that their brother, His friend, was really sick. So Jesus travels to see him, but by the time he got there Lazarus was dead. One of the sisters talks about how sad she is Jesus didn’t get there in time to save their brother, 'cause He’s got all sorts of powers and they were hoping He could use ’em to cure Lazarus. But Jesus goes to the tomb anyway, and He tells the people there to roll away this huge stone blocking the entrance. Then He says, “Lazarus, come out!” and Lazarus comes back to life to do it. That was my sister’s favorite part. She used to run around the church saying it, too. _Lazarus come out! Lazarus come out!_ over and over again.

Mine was the story of Moses and the burning bush, where God talks to him through a bush that’s on fire but doesn’t burn, and tells him to go free the slaves and gives him all these powers to do it.

See, I used to think it must’ve been the best honor, getting called to do God’s work...but that was a long time ago. The past few years’ve beaten all that stupid shit outta me. 

I know better now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mitakihara girls like you and Mami-san’d probably be surprised to hear that there’s more than one kind of wraith. They change depending where you go. Kyubey once told me it’s ’cause different environments foster correspondingly distinct curses or whatever, but I already knew that. Just not in those words, is all.

See, anyone can tell no two places smell exactly the same. Cities and towns and neighborhoods, they’re all different. Same’s true for their miasma. Especially at night.

Take Mitakihara. Loads of different smells but every one of ’em has that same acrid note to it underneath. It kinda smells like cigarette smoke. So the wraiths that pop up here are big suckers, probably from gorging themselves on that nice and varied diet, different in small ways here and there but all of ’em missing that same glitched chunk outta their heads. Tend to fight smarter, stick together when they hunt. A lot meaner about eating their prey, too. 

Kazamino’s are runtier, stupider. Don’t run in big packs either, but they’re bolder for it. The few that’re strong enough to show up during the day go for it before sunset instead of waiting for the thicker nighttime miasma to give ’em a boost, though some nest on top of houses to wait for the people living in them to get back. That’s just about as smart as they get over there. Fits how the town’s smaller, quieter. Mitakihara’s busier than Kazamino by a lot. Less variety, so all-around weaker wraiths.

Sniffing around’ll tell you a lot about a place, and not just about its wraiths. If the wind’s blowing the right way, you can even smell out another puella magi’s magic, or a new contract getting made—either can tell you a lot about the girl before you ever meet her face to face.

Mami-san’s magic smells like buttery cookies, with the sharp suggestion of cordite underneath. Just a hint, but enough to tell she’s strong. 

Sayaka was fresh water, out of place in a city like this, though her smell got murkier the longer I knew her.

Yours I must’ve smelled too many times to count, but I never put it all together until you showed up in my turf.

It was two nights after Sayaka’s tsuya. Ran into a pack of fresh wraiths on my way back from patrol. Ten of ’em in all, with maybe two or three of the big ones. Should’ve seen it coming. Most people know to stay away from places wraiths hunt on instinct, so the streets were awfully empty and quiet. Obvious. A real rookie mistake.

I’d just shoved the point of my spear into the fourth’s chest when I smelled it. A familiar scent, like I’d just walked past one of those open coolers they keep the bouquets in at the supermarket. That’s all the notice I got before I had a purple arrow crackle over my shoulder and straight into the fifth’s forehead. Both wraiths groaned their death knells and dissolved into a handful of cubes each, one after the other. I looked back over my shoulder for a second, caught a trail of purple magic streaming out from the roof of a low-rise about a block up the street, and got back to business.

The rest of the fight took three, five minutes tops. Felt like a lot less. The miasma faded soon after. I hefted my spear behind my neck and along my shoulders, stifled the instinctive urge to scoop up the cubes off the pavement right then. Waited you out. 

But when you finally touched down on the street and walked your way over to me, with that flowery scent getting stronger the closer you got, there was a second I thought you’d be someone else. Would’ve said so, if I hadn’t realized how stupid it'd have sounded. I've never met another girl who's got magic with that kind of scent.

“Huh,” was what I said instead. “Well, look at you. And here I thought you’d gone and disappeared on us.”

“Evidently not,” you said, all toneless. You stopped at the mouth of the alley and stood there. Staring. Not at me, just in my general direction, and with that stained-glass expression on your face again to boot.

“Whaddaya want?” I prodded tersely, hungry and eager to get whatever you wanted over with. I’ve seen all kinds before, but that kind of shit was new, as far as I could remember. “Did you come to say sorry for skipping patrol? Save it for your senpai.”

You just kept staring. “No. I was in the vicinity. I came to lend you my assistance.”

“Didn’t need you to. This’s still my turf, you know. I would’ve handled them on my own.”

“Of course.” You said it in the same old tone as before, but the way you flipped your hair like some kind of haughty runway model right after you did told me what you really thought about that.

I ran my tongue along the points of my teeth. I have my own way of dealing with uppity newbies back in Kazamino, but that’s not exactly up to me here. 

“Whatever. Suppose you wanna take some of these cubes as thanks for your ‘assistance,’ then?”

“No need. I already have more than enough.”

“Oh, yeah?” I laughed. Had to, or I probably would’ve hit you like I wish I’d done to Sayaka when she first fed me a stupid line like that one. “Aren't you a regular hero of justice.”

“I never claimed I was,” you said, “nor have I ever wanted to be perceived as such.”

“Really? ’Cause you’re sure acting like one. Show up to lend a hand, use up a good amount of magic making those pretty arrows of yours, and leave without taking any cubes to clean your soul gem afterwards? Out of, what, the kindness of your heart? Girls like you really piss me off.”

You looked down, muttering something I couldn’t make out.

“What’d you say?” I demanded. “If you’ve got something to say to me, then say it so I can hear.”

“I know they do,” you repeated, and before I could say anything else you lifted your hand up so I could see. 

Your soul gem shone a clear purple. There wasn’t a shadow in it I could see. It actually looked like it was glowing brighter than mine did when I was fresh from a cube cleaning.

My hands loosened around my spear, then tightened again. That made no sense. “How the hell did you—”

“I already told you.”

“...You’re no rookie,” I said.

Can’t be sure, but I thought I saw your eyes widen for all of a few seconds, before they went back to their usual flat stare.

“You are free to believe whatever it is you want, Sakura Kyoko,” you said, and then you walked away.

“Hey! Where’re you going!?” I yelled after you. “Gonna go stare at those streamers of yours!? Get back here!”

You stopped for a second, but then you kept walking and rounded the corner.

I went after you. Hurried so much my boots crunched on some of the cubes underfoot. 

We weren’t finished. I still don’t think we are, though I guess I know enough at this point. But by the time I got out of the alley, you were gone.

You know, being around Mami-san as much as I have pretty much gave me a front row seat to every single one of her dramatic entrances, but that exit of yours was just plain creepy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

— . . . —

 

 

 

 

 

 

In one loop Miki Sayaka’s witch hatched while she was still inside the shadow witch's barrier, and by the time you arrived Oktavia von Seckendorff was already disintegrating, the violins like a wail reverberating through what was left of her once-grand concert hall. Here and there patches of the crimson dome that made up the empty audience seating bore the monochrome fractals of Elsa Maria’s barrier instead, and for only a moment you thought about how Sayaka’s first instinct as a witch was to cannibalize and destroy her new fellows, more honest in her despair than she ever had been as a so-called warrior of justice.

You knew She wasn’t there. Before you went to handle it you had double-checked at Her home to make sure and She was still there in Her room, and She was. Not asleep, thanks to all the worry Her friend had caused Her, but safe for the time being. Yet leaving Miki Sayaka’s witch alive carried unacceptable consequences. It made it easier for the Incubator to trick Her into contracting for Sayaka’s sake if her witch was still alive, most importantly, and so to deny it Her you rushed to put what was left of Sayaka out of its misery. 

But it was not with only that in mind that you stepped into the shredded barrier. 

You suspected the worst but when you ventured deep enough toward the center you saw Kyoko with her spear dug into the floor to keep herself standing. Wounded but alive, that time.

You said, “Kyoko,” and were surprised how bald the relief in your voice sounded to your own ears. That was not the first time she had confronted Sayaka in this form and by that point you were long past hoping it would be the last time, yet there it was in your voice. There you were.

As you drew nearer you saw her body react to the sound of your footsteps and before you knew it, with more alacrity that you had reason to expect given her physical state, she rounded on you, the point of her spear held to your neck.

Instinctively your hand went for your buckler but you remember feeling your eyes widen even as you reached for the mechanism.

“You knew,” she said hoarsely, and your fingers stilled on the dial. Her voice cracked and shook, but her hands were enviously steady.

You said nothing.

“You _knew_ ,” she said again, “and you didn’t _say anything_.”

Sayaka’s ideal world collapsed around the two of you. The violins’ screeching dirge was tinnier, more and more diminished as what remained of the silhouetted orchestra of Kamijou Kyousukes was dispelled by the moonlight. 

You eyed the soul gem at the base of her throat and saw that it was very nearly black. Magical exhaustion combined with the shock of the revelation had been enough to turn her before.

The barrier flickered once, twice, and finally gave out. 

You listened for the clink of it in the distance. Then you said, “Yes,” and stopped time.

Without sparing her another glance you walked to where you knew the witch had stood, and picked up the needle point of her grief seed between your forefinger and thumb. The night air was a scraping ache along your throat. You walked back, reaching for your Glock as you went, and when you were standing before her again, you took a moment to let your expression reset itself before you extended your arm and pressed the grief seed to her soul gem. Indirect contact would not unmoor her; she would remain frozen until you were finished. You did not bother to watch the process, only listened to the telltale hissing of the grief seed glutting itself on her accumulated despair. Then you took ten steps back, and then you raised your shooting arm, and then you waited for that dilated moment to expire.

The mechanism turned.

You had learned that the first instinct of a puella magi who had her soul gem cleaned through this method was to grasp for it in shock and hold it as though they were expecting a greater weight, debilitated by how light their souls felt in that instant. Once delivered from the depths of their despair that was what the others did, Mami and Sayaka, every time without fail, but not her. 

She gasped. Her eyes widened and her shoulders heaved. Her spear wavered, but she kept it raised, both her hands gone white-knuckled around it. 

She began, “What the hell did you do to—”

You tossed the spent grief seed. It rolled to a stop at her feet. You said, “I saved your life, Sakura Kyoko.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” she spat.

“I wonder. Would you have preferred to become a witch like Miki Sayaka did?”

That quieted her for a moment, one she spent staring at the grief seed. “It was mine,” she snapped. “I got it fair and square. It was me that killed Saya—killed the witch. How I would’ve used it was my business. Not yours.”

“There was no time left for you to decide. I guessed what you would have wanted to do with it and used it for your benefit. That’s all.”

“Still,” she insisted, “it was _mine._ ”

Her protests sounded half-hearted. Nothing like the way her voice had sounded before the cleansing. Her instincts of self-preservation had already tempered her tone so all that remained was stubbornness, you surmised. So Sakura Kyoko was resilient after all. Good, you thought. You had always known this to be true but what had been abstract knowledge became tangible with unknown potential in that moment. If you could convince her, if you could use an experienced veteran like her to fight and work together with you—then that time, surely then, it would be enough to ensure you would stand a chance of succeeding.

The breeze blew through your hair, and you raised a hand to flip a wayward tress behind your shoulder. “You wouldn’t have lasted much longer,” you said. “I could have taken the grief seed for myself and left you to your fate, if I had wanted to. I could have come back and killed what was left of you afterwards, and had two grief seeds for my trouble. You couldn’t have stopped me in your state. But I didn’t. I have a use for you, and now you are in my debt.”

She sneered. “Like hell I am. I oughta kill you.”

“Swallow your pride. There are more pressing matters for us to consider than ownership of a simple grief seed. Walpurgisnacht will arrive in this city in six days’ time.”

“You think that’s what this’s about? A _simple grief seed?_ Are you forgetting how you let all this hap—”

“I don’t care,” you said, “what you are angry about. I have no use for people who are too short-sighted to postpone wallowing in their selfish concerns when a much larger threat looms on the horizon. You’re free to hate me. We don’t need to like one another to discuss business. I would think you’re smart enough to realize we can still come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

She bared her teeth at you. “Why’d I trust anything you’d have to say? You’re not human.”

“Neither are you,” you reminded her. “None of us are. But if you want to hold on to what’s left of it, you will help me defeat Walpurgisnacht and claim both its grief seed and this territory for yourself. With those in your possession, you’ll be able to hang on to that form indefinitely.”

“What? So I’m just supposed to believe you’d hand over that big ass grief seed _and_ the city over to me after we’re done? D’you think I’m stupid? What’re you getting out of it?”

“That is none of your concern.”

She barked out a humorless laugh. “Yeah—no. Take that crazy offer of yours somewhere else, ’cause I’m sure as hell not buying it. Dunno who’d be dumb enough.” She smirked and leaned in, affecting a conspiratorial tone. “Heard that Kaname girl’s got what it takes. Maybe you can find ‘a use’ for a chump like her, eh?”

You went very still. Once you had been too late to intercept the Incubator from getting to Her after Sayaka turned, but when you arrived you found Kyoko berating Her for even considering making a contract. In another She had attempted to mediate between Mami and Kyoko, and whenever She mentioned her in your presence that month it was as ‘Kyoko-chan,’ and two days later when Sayaka despaired, Kyoko expended all her magical energy getting both Her and an unconscious Mami out of the barrier.

All this is the sum of what you owe her. It was a debt you could never forget. Even when other memories were lost to you, you never forgot. You still haven’t forgotten. 

You knew it all then as well as you do now—yet that knowledge did not prevent what came next. 

“Involve Her in this,” you told Sakura Kyoko through gritted teeth, “and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

That disquieted. Kyoko was not smirking anymore. She chewed her lower lip and looked at you searchingly, her eyebrows scrunched in consideration, before she slowly lowered her spear.

“Tell you what,” she said lowly. “I’ll let you go for now, so you can have your showdown with Walpurgis or whatever next week. If it kills you, we’ll call it even. If not, or if you run away before it gets here, I’ll come find you, and then I’ll finish the job myself. That’s how I’m repaying that _debt_ , and how you’ll repay yours to me, and to Sayaka.”

You did not say anything else. You did not lower your Glock. 

You only watched her pick up Sayaka’s grief seed, palm it, and leave.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_I will never depend on anyone again._

Words to live by, had you ever once been strong enough to stand on your own two feet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

— . . . —

 

 

 

 

 

 

Look, I’m pretty sure you didn’t believe me then and probably still won’t believe me now, but I was telling the truth when I showed up at your place that night—honest.

Don’t know what it is about Mitakihara, but being back here this long’s got me throwing out too many of my rules. I still follow the ones about getting cash and food, obviously. It’s common sense to have at least 5000¥ on me for emergencies and stuff I can’t lift, you know. And, hey, everybody’s gotta eat. Been staying at the same hotel since I got here, though. Different rooms every day, but still. Another rookie mistake. Just plain stupid of me too.

Started out fine. Crashed in a part of the city that isn’t touristy or business-y or too residential. Avoided vacant apartments altogether. Hotels are better bets. Take less work than apartments, too. Sneak into an unused room of one of the seedier places and you’re set. If the hotel’s in an unpopular part of town picky tourists wouldn’t wanna stay in, even better. Sure, you gotta worry about the staff coming in to clean sometimes, but all you gotta do is memorize their schedule and it’s easy to avoid them. Apartments, on the other hand, are a real hassle. The people living in them just come back like they’d never been away. Sometimes you get lucky and the fridge’s stocked and it’s a long trip, but you never know. Best to stay on your toes, and hotels’ve got those minibars filled with expensive snacks anyways. Can’t beat that.

The longer I stuck around, the sloppier and sloppier I got. Stopped looking into other hotels I could make the move to altogether. The night after Sayaka, I didn’t get into a new room. Did the next day and the one after that, but I guess I thought I could get away with doing it only every other day afterwards, ’cause when I climbed up to the balcony of the same room I’d been squatting in after late night patrol there were other people in it.

So, really, can you blame me for sniffing you out? It’s not like you were my first choice. Just my only one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dunno what I was expecting. Not exactly, anyway. 

Maybe I thought I’d climb up to your window, or I’d have to use some magic to get in the building past the guard in the fancy lobby and then pound on your door for five minutes straight ’til you opened it up wearing some embarrassing pajamas. Getting a peek of whoever you were when you weren’t pretending to be some hardass _mysterious_ not-rookie, or whatever the hell. Something like that.

But it took less than seven knocks to get a reaction. First a rush of that flowery scent, then the locks clicking and turning. Had to cock my head sideways to get a look at you. Even then I could barely see anything through that small crack you’d opened up. Nothing about the apartment with you blocking the view, except that it was real dark in there, but I could see enough of you to tell you weren’t in any kind of pajamas. 

“Did you actually _transform_?” I said, half incredulous.

Your eye narrowed at me. “Is there something you want from me?”

“What? Can’t I make a social call?”

You didn’t say anything. Just narrowed that eye a little more.

“Alright, alright. The place I was staying at isn’t exactly available for me to crash in anymore, so I thought I’d ask you to put me up for the night.”

“Why not call on Tomoe Mami instead?”

“Didn’t wanna bother her. She’s got an early bedtime, you know. Diligent student and all that.” 

“She and I attend the same school.”

I smirked, leaned in a little closer. “Sure, but after running into you so late halfway across town a few nights ago, I figured your bedtime probably isn’t as early as hers.”

It wasn’t a lie. Sure, there was more to it, but Mami-san was definitely asleep by that time. She at least tries to act normal. Unlike you. Or either of us, really—who am I kidding.

You seemed to get that, ’cause when you shut the door it was to undo the chain. Then you opened the door all the way. Sure enough there you were, standing at the door in your magical girl outfit, and you walked back into your huge, dark apartment with it still on too, casual as can be. I whistled after you. Kinda figured you’d be the type to have a big place all to yourself though, so that wasn’t all that surprising.

I kicked off my shoes and followed you into the dark.

And then I stubbed my toe on something less than four steps in.

“Geez,” I hissed. “It’s like a lion’s den in here. Turn on a light, would ya?”

In the distance you held your hand up, your soul gem glowing bright enough to make me wince. “The switch is to your right,” you said.

Once I’d done that, and gotten a load of the furniture straight outta some private hospital waiting room, I walked past you, set what was left of my stuff down by one of your gray sofas, and sat down. Tough as hell, that couch, but better than a lot of the places I’d slept on before. At least this one would be good for my back.

You were sitting on the edge of the armchair across from me by the time I looked up, looking as stiff as the leather I was sitting on. Wound as tight as ever, weren't you? Couldn’t tell if it was more 'cause of me being there in your place or if that was just how you were all the time.

“If you need anything from me,” you said, “then you should tell me now.”

“What’s the rush?” I asked, pulling out the box of strawberry pocky I’d been keeping in my hoodie for easy access. “Gonna go stare at those streamers of yours some more? Don’t mind me, then. Wouldn’t wanna stand in the way of that.”

At that you glared at me. It was a real, withering one too. 

“They’re ribbons,” you told me.

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” You were looking down at your knees now. I could see the skin around ’em shift underneath your stockings as you got up. “I see you brought your own food. So if you don’t need anything from me, then I’ll go to my room.”

“Hold up, hold up. Yeesh. They’re _ribbons_. Ribbons, not streamers. Got it.”

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t get up either.

“Sheesh, you’re touchy. That a sore spot, or something?” Nothing. I went on, “Those’re flashier than what I’d expect from someone like you. Not that I’ve ever seen you outta uniform.”

First you said, “They’re not mine,” but you added, “They were a gift,” right after.

“Oh? So, which one is it?”

Nothing again. You weren’t talking. 

I rolled my eyes. Stared at the high ceiling for a second, then at the bare wall to my left, almost expecting something else to be on it. Weird. The whole place was, you more than anything else. I scraped some of the strawberry coating off with my front teeth. Crunched the stick in half.

Then you went and said, “When do you plan to resolve your issues with Tomoe Mami?” just like that. Out of the blue and everything.

My piece of pocky almost fell right outta my mouth. Must’ve looked pretty stupid for a few seconds.

“Leaving them unresolved is a liability,” you said, “especially so soon after Miki Sayaka’s death.”

“I don’t need to hear that kind of crap from you,” I snapped, and stuck another piece of pocky in my mouth. “I help out. I check her soul gem before patrol’s over. I make sure she takes her share of cubes to keep it clean. What do you do?" I ticked 'em off on my fingers. "Go off to hunt by yourself without telling anyone, without asking for help. Not that I care what happens to you, but she does. So if you wanna start pointing fingers about her 'liabilities,' then why don’t you take a look at yourself.” 

“Perhaps you're right. But I don’t have the kind of relationship with her that you do.”

I snorted. “Oh yeah? And what’d you know about that?”

You did that stupid hair-flip thing again. “Tomoe Mami mentioned she had an apprentice before Miki Sayaka. It was hardly difficult to figure out she meant you, and that you mean a great deal more to each other than that.”

My pocky’d gone sour. I swallowed it down anyway. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying that is?” I took your flat look as a sign you weren't following. I sighed. “That stupid hair-flip thing,” I said, trying to be mean about it, and showed you too for good measure, making sure to squint and cock my head the same way you did as I flipped my ponytail over my shoulder. “Why d’you even do that? D’you think it’s cool or something? ’Cause it’s not, you know. It just makes you look like more of a nosey, annoying know-it-all.”

“I suppose it’s a habit,” you said after a while, all slow and hushed, stained-glass sheen on your eyes. “I don’t remember when I started. I just do.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling myself deflate. “Well, I guess it isn’t as bad if you don’t do it on purpose. You’re just a weirdo, then.”

You accepted that way too easy for my own comfort. Hard to keep feeling mad at someone who just nods when some stranger says something like that to their face, let me tell you, but not being able to stay mad at you for being nosey just made me even madder.

“Dammit,” I said. “What the hell is your deal?”

“I know that you will regret it.”

“Then you really don’t know shit about me, Akemi. I never regret anything.”

“Then I envy you,” you said quietly, and for a second I remembered Sayaka saying, _I could never regret it_ about the wish she wasted on that stupid violin boy, and then I looked at you and thought, _Dammit, dammit_. But you were already getting up, saying, “Excuse me. Goodnight,” and making your way outta there, back down the hall, and I could only watch you go then, just like before. Just like I’d always done.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay, so maybe I did lie.

See. There’s plenty of things I’d do differently, if I could. I wouldn’t dare call myself human if I felt any different. Not after all the misfortune I’ve caused others. D’you really think I wouldn't stop myself from doing all the stupid shit I’ve ever done? 

But that’s just the thing, though. I can’t. I can’t do any of it over. None of us can. Not me. Not Mami-san. Sayaka sure as hell couldn’t. And neither can you. You're no different than any of us. No one can, ’cause time magic’s impossible—it’s the one limit Kyubey brings up before every contract gets made. That’s just the way the universe works, and there’s no changing it. No matter how much you wish and pray, no one’ll answer.

So at the same time it _wasn’t_ a lie either, and you better listen to me now, ’cause if you were right about anything it’s that girls like us can’t afford regrets. We just said it differently that night and neither of us really got what the other was saying, so here’s what I want you to get into that head of yours: just because something exists doesn’t mean you’ve gotta pay attention to it. Not if it drags you down the way regrets do. Not even if it’s inside or a big part of you. That’s what gets us killed, and even if we’re bound to disappear sooner than normal people 'cause our wishes go wrong and nothing’s like we wanted, there’s no point to dwelling in all your stupid regrets—that’s for people who can afford to waste time, who don’t have anyone else relying on them, who don’t realize they can live for their own sakes, who aren’t _us_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

— . . . —

 

 

 

 

 

 

She came back, minutes before the fog rolled in from the bay, and she told you it wasn’t for you, it wasn’t to protect anyone, it was for herself, because her soul gem was still clouded and she wanted the grief seed and the territory, and she wanted to make sure you wouldn’t run, so she could make sure you fulfill your end of the debt, and all you could think to say was, _Thank you, thank you, thank you_ , but you didn’t say it, couldn’t remember how to say anything but _Sakura Kyoko_ in surprise, in acknowledgment.

“You’re doing this for Kaname Madoka, aren’t you?” she asked.

Walpurgisnacht’s coming had always made you more forthcoming. The closer the date encroached upon you, the more likely you were to tell all, to beg Her to let you protect Her, to need to freeze time to look at Her and hold Her without being looked at with the fear that had become the first thing to spring onto Her face every time She looked at you several loops prior, to let your desperation crack your impassive expression open and wear it plain on your face.

So on Walpurgis Night you told Sakura Kyoko, “Yes.” 

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, nodding slowly to herself, until the first sign of the parade appeared on the horizon.

“Mami and I promised we’d beat a Walpurgisnacht and protect this city once," she told you then, "back when I was just her stupid apprentice. And when I asked myself what Sayaka would want, I knew it’d be to defend this place and these people to the death.” 

An elephant blew its trumpet. Then another. One of the witch’s standard-bearers tripped and skipped along the surface of Mitakihara Bay. 

Kyoko turned to you and gave you a lopsided grin. “Guess we’re both idiots too, huh?”

You did not respond. You did not reach out to her. You did not grab her hand.

(In the end, it would be among the inactions you regretted most.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minutes later you looked at Kyoko’s body crumpled in the wreckage of the ruined city, then at Kriemhild Gretchen, rapidly bloating over the sea. It wasn’t enough. Near to, nearer than ever before. It had only taken Her a single arrow to finish Walpurgisnacht, once she’d made a contract to save the two of you. Next time—if you could ally yourself with Kyoko again, if you could rely on one another as allies, if Mami survived to fight with you—then next time, surely. Next time.

Your gaze drifted back down toward Kyoko. You took her in. Her clothes waterlogged and bloodied. Her eyes, unseeing, still open. You reached out, then, and shut them, your fingers wet and shaking against the bridge of her nose, her skin long since chilled by the flood.

Her last words had been, _Don’t you dare give up._

“I won’t,” you promised her, and then you retracted your hand, and then you braced it against your buckler, and then you reset.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You watched as Sakura Kyoko ripped and dumped four packets of sugar into the large coffee you’d bought her at once. When she was finished she looked up at you from across the table. “So,” she said, “what is it you wanted to talk about with me so badly?”

This Sakura Kyoko’s grin was crooked, roguish. Had they all looked like that? It hardly inspired confidence.

You shut your eyes. You waited for it—and it came, slowly: the hopeless, indebted trust she’d inspired that first time and every time after, again and again, thoroughly unrepayable, wary and weary but there, as it always had been.

You opened your eyes and met hers. 

You said, “Walpurgisnacht will descend upon this city in a fortnight.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

— . . . —

 

 

 

 

 

 

This one wasn’t in my and Momo’s Bible, but it was our father’s favorite, so we heard it all the time.

Job was a faithful man. So faithful and so blessed with God’s favor that the Devil noticed and went up to Him and bet Him that if He took back His favor and cursed Job instead, Job would curse Him right back. Because he was only human and that’s what humans do, right—they bite the hand that once fed them, once the food’s all gone. God took the Devil up on his bet, and then He made all sorts of misfortune curse Job and all the people he loved. His kids, his money, his health—all dead, gone, drained outta him. All of 'em taken by God.

But Job never cursed Him for it. He never called God unjust or cruel. Not even when he’d lost everything he loved.

God was so impressed with Job for not trying to bite Him back that He gave him twice as much as he had before. Twice as much money. Twice as long a life. Twice as much happiness. Twice as many sons and daughters, all of ’em twice as beautiful and loyal and good and obedient as the ones that He'd taken. Just like that.

Yeah. It was his favorite, all right. He'd tell us again and again, almost every chance he'd get. Especially during meals, when we only had scraps to eat. Like he believed that could cure our hunger if we believed, and what's faith if not pretending?

I never told my father so, but I always thought that story was stupid. 

Maybe it’s more honest than all the other stories, sure, 'cause God didn’t call back Job’s dead kids and have them walk outta their graves like Jesus did with Lazarus. Not just anyone can bring people back to life, and when they do it’s never just as a reward. There's always a price to pay for deals like that.

But that's still the part of what never sat right with me about that story: that getting rewarded with new stuff somehow made up for everything He'd taken away, all the people Job lost over some bet he never even agreed to be the lab rat for. That he settled for less from someone who could've given everything back. Who should've.

Nothing can ever replace the things you’ve lost. I knew that then, but I know it even better now.

Doesn’t mean the new things’re bad or even any less good—not if you stop comparing ’em to the ones you lost. Not if you just take ’em the way they are, you know?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your bathroom was just as stupidly humongous as the rest of your apartment. That’s where I found you the next morning. You were already in your school uniform, standing at the sink with the red ribbons in your hand. I was just looking for some toothpaste to put on my finger to scrub my teeth with, but when we met each other’s eyes in the mirror I stopped in the doorway.

Truth is I didn’t sleep well that night. Went over what you’d said and what I’d said and how some of both made sense. I thought maybe I was finally playing it smart, coming back here and getting Mami to shape up, but I hadn’t done any of the things I’d wanted to do when I first arrived. I realize now that you don’t come back into an old friend’s life—back into your sister’s life—and jerk her around like this ’cause you think it’d be better if she changed. You don’t give up on her or yourself or what you have left no matter how you left it or what you did to mess it up, and you don't give up on the people who’re stubborn enough to make sure you remember that, especially when she doesn’t wanna remember it for herself. Not if you can help it.

So I moved to stand behind you. Jabbed you in the shoulder with my knuckles when you tensed up and opened your mouth, probably to say something real unnecessary. Took the ribbons right outta your hands, and concentrated, and poked my tongue out while I tied them into your hair as carefully as I could, trying to remember how I used to do this for Momo all that time ago. Ended up coming out all crooked. Didn’t really suit you either, but we looked at them in the mirror like we saw that they were good enough. Neither of us made a move to take them back out.

“They look horrible,” you said.

“Yeah—well.” I blew out a stale breath. “I’m outta practice. Been a long time since the last time I tried. This’s the best you’re gonna get out of me, Akemi. If you want ’em to look better, then you should go ask someone else to do it. Ribbons are Mami’s thing, y’know.”

You were looking down at the sink with some weird look on your face. Not the stained-glass one, or I probably would’ve told you off about that like I’d done with the hair-flip thing last night. I actually liked this one. If I squinted, it looked almost like you were smiling.

“You can call me Homura,” you said.

“Sure, sure. Well, tell you what? Show up to patrol tonight,” I told you, “and I’ll even let you call me Kyoko.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Sakura-san? What are you doing here? I’m about to leave for school. Patrol isn’t until this afternoon.”

That the same thing I’d told you before we parted ways, and you said you’d be there. It’s weird, but remembering that made it easier to look up and meet Mami’s eyes again without thinking of all the things I’d said and what I couldn’t accept from her before. I could accept them now, and I knew I had to, but most of all I think I really wanted to again. To have the sister I'd found back in my life, and to admit that's what she was to me. Wanted to try again. So soon, like an idiot, but life's too short for girls like us to be anything but idiots. Ain't that right, Homura?

“That’s not why I came over, Mami-san,” I said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
